Not High, Not Lonesome

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“Two years,” Tanner said from the passenger seat next to Joe, turning the brass medallion over in his fingers as if he couldn’t believe it. There’d been a time when none of them would’ve believed Tanner could make it a single year clean and sober, never mind two.

“Proud of you.” Joe snatched Tanner’s hand, the one holding the medallion stamped with the number two, and raised it to his lips. “You’re a miracle. Never forget it.” Heroin wasn’t an easy to drug to kick. Joe knew.

“How much time have you got?” Tanner asked.

Fuck if he could remember. His early sobriety had been so shaky he’d stopped counting the days. Finally something had stuck, and he’d been clean a while now, but he’d never been in the habit of going to twelve-step meetings, given his general anti-socialness and those years he’d spent living alone as a caretaker for a high-altitude hut.

“Eight years? Somewhere in that range. I never picked up any coins.”

An extra bonus to Tanner being sober was that he dragged Joe along to the meetings with him. Joe probably needed them. Now that he didn’t live on top of a mountain, life had a way of getting in his face, and an ex-addict was always, at heart, an addict waiting to happen, as Tanner had proven a few too many times before they made it to this point. Thank God for how good Pyotr’s insurance through the CIA was, and that the Trump administration hadn’t succeeded in either disqualifying same-gender spouses from receiving benefits or eliminating the preexisting conditions protection because Tanner had needed two rehab stints and multiple detoxes to get to this point.

Tanner and Pyotr felt bad that their legally recognized marriage excluded Joe, but Joe didn’t give a fuck. Whatever they had to do to take care of each other, that was what they would do—just like they had during those days they’d been snowed in together waiting for a Russian spy to show up. Besides, it was Pyotr who’d made the real sacrifice, taking the risk of marrying an active heroin addict. All Joe had to do was shut his yap about it not being fair. A threeway relationship couldn’t always be exactly equal. Pyotr liked to call their vibe communist: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs. They were doing better with it than the Soviet Union had anyway.

“Do you think it’s stupid, me getting this coin?” Tanner had been growing his hair out lately. It was almost as long as Joe’s now. Joe kept his up most days so he wouldn’t have to deal with it, but Tanner’s was beautiful—reddish blond and curly, cascading around his shoulders like a treasure waiting to be plundered.

“I already told you what I think it is. A miracle.”

“Yeah.” Tanner grinned, turning to flash his smile directly at Joe. Joe nearly smashed into the car in front of him, he was so blinded by it.

“Be good,” he said. “Not until we get home.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Tanner protested. “But when we get home, right? We get to celebrate.”

Since the two of them were addicts, and Pyotr claimed he used to drink more than he needed to and didn’t need to at all now that he had them, they didn’t keep alcohol in the house, so celebrate didn’t mean champagne. It meant sex. Heroin had a tendency to suppress a person’s sex drive, especially with heavy use, but it bounced back just fine once a guy got clean.

Joe knew about that too. He would never stop feeling guilty about all the sex he’d had before finding out he was HIV positive, though he’d always used a condom at least. But thanks to anti-virals, his virus load was undetectable, and Pyotr and Tanner had talked him out of acting like his come was toxic waste. Undetectable meant untransmittable. The three of them were monogamous—or whatever you called it when three people were monogamous together—and happy to forgo condoms.

“We’re going to celebrate you good,” he told Tanner, who squirmed in response, losing focus on his medallion for now.

“I want something big,” Tanner said. “Something special. Something all about me. I deserve it.”

“All right, baby. You deserve it.” He wasn’t sure what more they could give Tanner than they usually did, but when they got back to the two-bedroom ranch in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains they called home, Joe allowed Tanner to drag him straight through the living room into their bedroom, even though Pyotr wasn’t home yet and would be annoyed they’d started without him. To each according to his needs, right? Tanner needed a blowjob.

Joe got him undressed, appreciating how healthy Tanner’s skin was—not pale or sweaty, the marks up the inside of his left arm faded to an almost indiscernible lightness—and how well he’d filled out. He was still on the slight side, but that was his natural physique, making him a perfect little doll Joe loved to play with. His thighs were creamy and round as Joe nuzzled between them, heading for his balls, which were drawn up like he was already ready to shoot.

“If you come before Pyotr gets here, he’s going to kill me.”

“Don’t tell him,” Tanner said with a giggle. He directed Joe’s head back between his legs. “You know I can get it up again.”

Yeah, Tanner probably could. Oh, to be twenty-five again. But Pyotr would still know. When a guy spent most of his adult life as a double agent for the CIA, he got good at knowing things. So Joe addressed himself to Tanner’s needs at a leisurely pace, trying to stall until Pyotr got home even though Tanner squirmed and squealed and drummed his heels and demanded more. Joe put a firm hand on Tanner’s stomach to hold him down and said “behave” in a voice that had Tanner settling at last, letting Joe go where he wanted, which was everywhere.

Tanner kept himself fully shaved—something he hadn’t managed to talk Joe or Pyotr into yet, though they appreciated it on him. The two of them did a little manscaping out of courtesy, but naked balls looked better on Tanner with his sylph-like limbs and his pouty blowjob lips and those wild curls. He was made to be naked, even down here. And the two of them liked getting their tongues in Tanner’s ass too much to want to deal with the distraction of stray hairs.

Joe ate him out, sucking and licking at Tanner’s tight ring, which he expected to have a good go at later, then making his way up past Tanner’s hairless balls to his hairless cock, which was hard and dripping. Joe’s own cock was equally as hard, sandwiched under his body as he lay on his stomach between Tanner’s legs. He rocked it into the mattress, giving himself a little stimulation but not too much. Unlike Tanner, he couldn’t count on recharging immediately, and if he blew his load before Pyotr had a chance to fuck him, he’d be in deep trouble. Not to mention that he’d miss out on Pyotr fucking him.

He wormed his hips deeper into the mattress at the thought. His ass stuck up in the air, unprotected. Pyotr would be home any minute. He could come into the bedroom and just give it to him. Not any prep even, just take him. Joe moaned at the image, and Tanner moaned back, appreciating the vibrations of Joe’s throat around his cock.

Joe was on the verge of saying fuck it, making Tanner come, maybe by fucking him because they were both horny as hell, when he heard the door to the carport slam shut. Pyotr’s voice rang through the house, lightly tinged with the Russian accent he only allowed to seep into his voice when it was just the three of them.

“Where’s my two-years-clean birthday boy?”

“It’s Pyotr,” Tanner hissed. “Act natural.”

Joe laughed. This was pretty natural for them. He popped Tanner’s cock out of his mouth and turned over his shoulder to find Pyotr standing in the doorway, dressed in a full suit like he’d been meeting with the brass today. His new desk job meant he didn’t have to go on dangerous missions where he pretended to be other people anymore, but it also meant maintaining a certain corporate—almost military—appearance.

The first time Joe had ever seen Pyotr, he’d been dressed like a mountaineer, despite knowing zippo about mountaineering. Pyotr didn’t know much more about being a desk jockey, but either way, he was a handsome son-of-a-bitch with that super straight posture and his blond hair conservatively styled. Joe missed the beard sometimes, but nothing had changed in Pyotr’s ice blue eyes, which were looking at him with amused annoyance.

“You couldn’t wait?”

“It’s Tanner’s special day.”

“And yet it’s you I see with a cock down your throat. You need a cock, Yosya?”

Joe did. Whenever Pyotr used his Russian diminutive, it got him so hot he almost couldn’t stand it. Everything was wrapped up in that nickname—sex, love, belonging.

Pyotr gestured him forward with a crooked finger, and Joe got off the bed to kneel before his more dominant lover. He lowered the zipper on Pyotr’s pants and fished his cock out through his boxers. Fuck, that was a nice cock. Tanner’s was nice too, but fuck. Pyotr’s was nicer.

Joe swallowed it down as Pyotr went about the business of peeling off his suit jacket, taking off his cufflinks, and slowly undoing all the buttons on his shirt. As Pyotr divested himself of his clothes, he moved around the bedroom, getting them all properly put away because he was an anal motherfucker, while Joe scrabbled along on his knees, trying to keep Pyotr’s cock in his mouth.

Until Tanner got tired of watching and kicked up a fuss. “It’s my anniversary.”

“Did I forget to say hello, Tasha?” Pyotr went over to the bed and bent down to kiss Tanner, all naked now with every toned limb visible. Joe was trapped against the bed by Pyotr’s body as he and Tanner exchanged a kiss that went beyond hello. “So proud of you. My very, very good boy.”

“And I get whatever I want, right?”

“Always.” Pyotr spoiled Tanner something fierce. Joe didn’t mind, unless it was recovery related. Letting Tanner cheat on his recovery wouldn’t be doing him any favors. But anything else, yes.

“I want you both to fuck me,” Tanner said.

“Joe’s been a bad boy. I’m not sure he deserves to fuck you.”

“How am I the bad boy here?” Joe asked. “Why’s it always my fault even when it’s Tanner’s fault?”

“Because Tanner doesn’t like to be punished and you do.” Pyotr hauled him up to his feet. “Hello, Yosya. Did I forget to say hello to you too?” He kissed Joe so thoroughly, with such passionate ownership, that Joe forgot to be annoyed. In fact, he felt a little dizzy. Pyotr pushed him backward so he tumbled across Tanner, then stood over the two of them, surveying them with a wicked look in his eye.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that in honor of Tanner’s very special day, we should put Tanner in the middle.”

“Really?” Tanner asked. “In the middle?” They often fucked in a centipede, but Joe always went in the middle—fucking Tanner, getting fucked by Pyotr. If Tanner went in the middle, that would mean…

“Who’s Tanner fucking?”

“You, of course,” Pyotr said with a smirk, because Pyotr wasn’t letting anyone in his ass, the bossy, smug son-of-a-bitch. “That’s your punishment for not waiting for me. We’re going to let our baby rail you.”

“Will you, Joe?” Tanner bounced up onto his knees.

“I didn’t even know you wanted to top.”

“Not usually, but today’s special. Let me be in the middle.”

If Pyotr was ordering him to do it, and Tanner wanted him to do it, Joe couldn’t say no. It wasn’t like he disliked getting fucked. He liked it a lot, especially when Pyotr did it, grabbing his ponytail like it was a set of reins and riding him without mercy. But being fucked by Tanner—by someone younger and softer who usually bottomed—had a sharper edge of humiliation to it. Which had his cock ridiculously hard. Pyotr was a son-of-a-bitch, but he was a son-of-a-bitch who knew what he was doing.

“You have to open him up first,” Pyotr warned Tanner.

“I know,” Tanner said, sounding aggrieved. “Like I haven’t been fucked a thousand times myself.”

“Like Pyotr ever opens me up,” Joe grumbled. He was lucky if he got a couple of quick fingers most days. Pyotr knew he liked it rough and raw, but of course Pyotr was going to make Tanner go through the whole ritual, drag the act out so Joe couldn’t duck away from it. Pyotr was always making him face his demons.

He rolled onto his stomach and separated his legs so Tanner could get between them. Tanner had the bottle of lube in his hand and was squirting out way too much of it, based on the sound. Joe squeezed his eyes shut as Tanner’s super-slick fingers probed at his entrance. Tanner made a sound of appreciation when Joe’s ass sucked them in, as if he didn’t know what the inside of an ass felt like, though Joe would bet Tanner had probed his own a time or two. Maybe not lately, considering he had two partners eager to do it for him, but Tanner had been a teenaged gay boy once and had likely tried most of what there was to try.

Tanner was on his hands and knees with his own ass thrust back so Pyotr could get at it. Pyotr would open Tanner carefully, taking the time with him he never took with Joe. Tanner was Pyotr’s precious baby, coddled at every turn. Sometimes Joe thought they should let Tanner find out more about what the world was really like, but then he always changed his mind. The world was shitty, and Tanner had seen enough of it during the years of his active addiction. Let him spend the rest of his life on a silk cushion if they could keep him there.

“So hot and tight for me,” Pyotr said. “How’s Joe?”


“Yeah, those are some muscular haunches you’re going to be fucking into. Feels good when he bucks back. He’s a wild ride, and he’s all yours tonight, Tasha.”

Tanner kissed Joe’s right ass cheek, then his left. He hooked his fingers around to find Joe’s prostate. Joe had been wondering if Tanner was going to get to that, but there it was. Joe hissed, his gland sensitive and primed for contact. Pyotr must be working on Tanner’s prostrate because Tanner was all squirmy back there, making choked noises as he kept kissing Joe’s cheeks while he worked between them, like he really appreciated this opportunity he was getting.

Joe didn’t know how he felt, except horny. He rocked his cock into the mattress the way he’d been doing while he’d been going down on Tanner, intensity building in him again. He would be on the far end of the train today, nothing to sink his cock into except his own hand. He wormed it under him now, seeking out the friction he needed.

Pyotr made a particularly Russian-sounding tsk noise. “If I could reach you, I’d show you what I think of that move. No jerking yourself off until Tanner gets inside you.”

“Then get inside me already, Tanner.” Joe flushed as he said it, hating how cock-hungry he sounded, but he was. He needed something already. He couldn’t just lie there, passive, on the receiving end of everything like the bottom Pyotr was forcing him to be.

“You ready to fuck, Tanner?” Pyotr asked.

“So totally.” Tanner scrambled onto his knees. “Come on, Yosya. Assume the position.”

Oh, fuck. It wasn’t like this was a new position. Pyotr often fucked him on his hands and knees, with his ass pushing back to meet the strong thrust of Pyotr’s hips. But arranging himself to be fucked by Tanner had a different feel. Joe moved his limbs slowly, prompting another one of those Russian sounds of disapproval. If it were Pyotr behind him, he’d probably be feeling the sting of Pyotr’s palm against his ass right about now, but Tanner was all soft encouragement, guiding him into position.

It was the sweetness making him feel so raw, almost like he could cry from it as Tanner set the head of his cock against his hole and pushed slowly inside. Joe swore he could feel the difference between Pyotr’s cock and Tanner’s—not just in the slow and gentle care of Tanner’s entry but in the actual shape. With two lovers, he never got bored. Never felt the need for something new or more. But this was like suddenly discovering an extra lover, one whose cock was a revelation.

Joe sucked in the moan threatening to escape him as the head of Tanner’s cock slid over his warmed-up prostate. Tanner’s hips came to rest against his backside.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Tanner said.

“You ever topped anyone before?” Pyotr asked as Tanner started rocking slowly in and out, giving Joe a tease of a fuck.

“A few times when I was younger. I like bottoming.”

“Then top me how you like to be topped,” Joe complained. He missed Pyotr’s power.

“Top him how you want to top him,” Pyotr said, overriding Joe’s complaint. “This is your day, Tasha.”

Fine. Joe huffed out an impatient breath, steeling himself to take this gentle lovemaking that had him hot but not satisfied. He brought his hand to his cock, and this time Pyotr didn’t say anything. He let Joe stroke himself, standing back from the two of them to watch as they found a rhythm that started to work really well.

It’d been a long time since Joe had been fucked so smoothly, with such long and even strokes, and though he missed being thrown around by Pyotr’s greater strength, Tanner’s predictable pace dovetailed perfectly with his own strokes. And Tanner was enjoying it so much, making the same beautiful sounds he made when Joe fucked him. It was perfect, the two of them moving as one. Joe forgot about being grumpy. This was going to work just fine.

Then Pyotr entered Tanner. Joe knew because Tanner’s humming deepened and Tanner stopped moving. Joe was about to insist he start moving again when Pyotr did it for him, fucking Tanner so thoroughly that Tanner fucked him by default. Now Joe was being thrown around, the ultimate recipient of all that motion as Tanner ricocheted back and forth, moving his hips in both directions as Pyotr drove into him and all Joe could do was hang on.

He’d always imagined he had it best in the middle, with his cock in Tanner’s ass and Pyotr’s cock in his, but this was a wild ride. He’d never realized how hard Tanner was getting it. The next time a moan burbled up from his throat, he let it loose. Fuck, this was good. He was so close to coming, but he wanted to hold off, to not be the first of the three to let go.

Then Tanner howled and released into his ass, and that was all the permission he needed. He came, jetting into his fist, toppling over as his other arm failed to hold him up. He belly-flopped onto the mattress, and Tanner followed him down, gasping into his ear as his cock twitched in Joe’s ass. Pyotr came around to the side of the bed where they formed an exhausted sandwich.

“All for you today, Tasha,” he said as he blasted Tanner’s face with come, but his aim wasn’t that precise. Joe licked his lips, relishing his share of Pyotr’s load. It hadn’t been all about Tanner today. Not really.

“Are you just going to stand there looking at us?” he asked.

“Maybe. You’re pretty together, especially covered in my come.” Pyotr traced a finger through some of the mess on Tanner’s face and fed it into Joe’s mouth. “How’d you like that, Tanner?”

“I liked it,” Tanner mumbled. He tucked his head into the side of Joe’s neck and let loose a giant yawn. “Can we do it again, Yosya?”

“When you get your three year medallion.”

Tanner made an annoyed sound. Joe grinned.

“Just kidding. You can fuck me any time. Either of you. Come to bed, Petya.” He wormed an arm free, and Pyotr ducked under it to join them on the bed, forming a pyramid with Tanner on top and him and Pyotr as the steady base that would always be there to support him. Tanner had gone through a lot to earn that two year medallion, but he wasn’t the only one. Today belonged to all three of them.

The End

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